


Mother

by Jathis



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Infertility, Kissing, M/M, Nanny Crowley (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-13
Updated: 2019-07-13
Packaged: 2020-06-27 11:08:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19789633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jathis/pseuds/Jathis
Summary: Always the nanny, never the mother





	Mother

“He really does love you, you know.”

She stood a little straighter at that. Ashtoreth turned her head to watch as the gardener Francis approached. Warlock had been taken out with his mother for the afternoon and would not be expected back for a few more hours. This left her with some free time and she decided to use it wandering the gardens and hissing threats to any plants she saw shirking their duties of growing and looking beautiful.

She sniffed, pursing her lips as she focused on keeping her face impassive. She looked down at a young rose, glaring dangerously behind her glasses at it to make it shape up into a proper bloom. “Whoever do you mean, gardener?” she asked.

Francis chuckled, shaking his head as he moved to stand beside her. “Master Warlock of course! The boy loves you.”

“Children love anything that makes noise and entertains them for more than a minute,” she countered. 

“You know he sees you as more than that.”

“Do I?”

Francis gently reached up. He took hold of her chin and turned her head to look at him. He smiled, big tooth shining in the light. “The child loves you as if you were his mother. I know it’s something you’ve always wanted, dear.”

“...you know I cannot have children of my own,” she whispered, trying and failing to stop the lump from forming in her throat. 

“I know.”

“No matter what I do my body wouldn’t be able to do that.”

“I know.”

“But sometimes I wish…I wish I could…”

Francis tenderly kissed her. He gently pressed their foreheads together in comfort, nuzzling her. “We won’t let him become the Antichrist. I know it. Until then, you make that boy happier than anyone else in the world. That’s what you give him. No one else.”

She smiled sadly, keeping their foreheads together. “Thank you,” she whispered. 

“Patron snake of children,” he teased.

Ashtoreth laughed, a single tear falling down her cheek.


End file.
